


Heavy Games

by Endiopop



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Western, Blood and Violence, Demon Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Demonic Possession, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, M/M, Minor Character Death, On the Run, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endiopop/pseuds/Endiopop
Summary: He thought back to the life he was leaving behind, hoping that no trace would be left behind. It wasn’t like he had much of anything in the small dusty town anyways. The only thing the town held for him besides shelter in the form of an itchy hay bed on the floor of a barn was a low paying job as a ranch hand.Any pleasant memories he may have had of the town had been swallowed up by the last few hours anyways. George’s mind supplied him with images of mangled bodies and bloodied grass. A loud ringing bounced around in his skull, sharp screaming voices in his ears-and George fell unconscious.Or, George lives a simple life on a ranch until he doesn't.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Kudos: 27





	1. Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've had this idea for a story for quite literally years now and I'm glad to finally be able to share it. (although this definitely isn't the form I originally thought it would end up taking lmao)
> 
> Please feel free to leave any thoughts or criticisms in the comments, this is my first ever fic and I really hope to improve so I'd love to hear any sort of feedback! 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

The train roared along its well worn path, leaving only a slight rumble in the ground, and wisps of smoke trailing through the sky.

The air was hot and thick, each breath brought with it a slight gulp as perspiration gathered upon George’s forehead. Within the confines of the train the air held on to its viscous nature, but was tainted with something sinister.

An uneasy feeling of tension permeated throughout the train.

George stared out the window. He watched the setting sun cast a basking glow on the seemingly endless dry landscape. The ground was cracked skin stitched together haphazardly by the roots of plants that were built to survive, and boy, it sure was a miracle that anything could survive in the hell-scape that lay before him.

George wanted nothing more than to get as far away from this place as fast as humanly possible.

At first glance you wouldn’t assume that George was filled with anxious dread. He sat, appearing relaxed and maybe even a little sleepy with his worn straw hat sat atop his head-but appearances can be quite deceiving.

George’s mind was whirring like a machine, running a mile a minute, or hell maybe even ten miles a minute. He resisted the urge to bounce his leg or tap his fingers, something to soothe his racing thoughts.

Any little sign of anxiety would show weakness and once there was blood in the water, he would be done for.

George brought his eyes away from the window, lazily looking up towards his companion. Sat in front of him was a man, striking in his appearance. He wore formal attire opposed to George’s simple work clothes, a shark-like grin resting on his face, and mischievous piercing green eyes. George eyed the man, doing his best to keep his face neutral.

In his head he repeated a mantra, _show no fear, show no emotion_.

The two stared at one another for what seemed like an eternity. The silence sat thick and heavy between them, George refused to be the one to break.  
Luck appeared to be on George’s side today as the sharp chime of a bell broke the two out of their strange trance. George’s head snapped to the red curtains being drawn and the face of an attendant popped into their booth.

“Care for any snacks?” The woman’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. George felt his stomach growl at the thought of something to eat, but his empty pockets growled louder.

“I’ll be alright, thank you miss.” George spoke back with what he hoped was a friendly smile and a courteous nod. The attendant smiled and nodded back, looking over to his companion who shook his head, before she drew the curtains closed, leaving the booth in silence once again.

“I can hear your empty stomach from over here.” Emerald eyes pierced into George’s soul.

“Yeah well, I’m broke so it looks like we’ll both have to suck it up.” George snipped back.

“You know, I could change that for you George” Eyes crinkled as his companion spoke out in a sing-song voice. George rolled his eyes, the tension from before had somewhat dissipated but he remained on his toes.

“Hmmm…” George tapped at his chin in mock contemplation before leaning in close, “I think I’ll pass on that one, _Dream_ , but you know what I would give _anything_ for you to do right now?” Dream met his stare head on, sucking in a breath and leaning in a bit closer,

“What would that be, _Georgie?"_ George’s lips curled up into a smile, as he spoke out softly.

“If you would just leave me the fuck alone.” George spoke with a harsh punctuation between each of his words. Dream’s eyes narrowed for a split-second, brief enough that most wouldn’t have caught the slight show of irritation, before returning back to their playful glint.

“Now George, you and I both know that’s not going to happen, you’re just too goddamn fun. Besides, after a taste of your company, I don’t think I could go back to a life of solitude.”

George rolled his eyes mentally but kept his face neutral, putting on a facade, outwardly accepting the flimsy excuse as the reason Dream refused to leave him be. George, of course, knew the real reason.

This companion of sorts he had picked up was after his soul.

The booth was back to a tense silence, but George let his gaze drop from Dream back to the window. He thought back to the life he was leaving behind, the life he was sprinting away from, hoping that no trace would be left behind.

It wasn’t like he had much of anything in the small dusty town anyways. The only thing the town held for him besides shelter in the form of an itchy hay bed on the floor of a barn was a low paying job as a ranch hand.

Any pleasant memories he may have had of the town had been swallowed up by the last few hours anyways. George’s mind supplied him with images of mangled bodies and bloodied grass. A loud ringing bounced around in his skull, sharp screaming voices in his ears-and George fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

The day had started out like any other.

George’s eyes fluttered open as soft beams of sun filtered through the cracks in the old barn he called home. He groaned quietly, unwilling to leave the comfort of his woolen blanket to go about his sure-to-be busy day. He forced himself out of bed to start getting ready, changing into his work clothes and making the short trek to the farmhouse to start on his daily tasks.

He already knew that the day would be an unbearable one. The heat was teetering right on the edge of pleasant and sticky and it was only eight o’clock in the morning.

Sweat dripped its way down George’s brow as he went about his grueling day on the ranch, sun beating down harshly on the brim of his hat. He thought back on his life and his actions, questioning if they really garnered him the hell he was currently experiencing. Well, maybe that was a tad bit dramatic, but goddamn was it blistering out.

He thanked his lucky stars when the head rancher put him on laundry duty for the day, he would gladly wash the sour, week-old sweat from rancher’s socks if it meant he’d be out of the painful grasp of the sun's rays.

George went back and forth between the small creek and the farmhouse, hauling several heavy baskets filled with laundry down to the creek. He sighed and removed his hat, wiping the sweat from his brow. With all the laundry down by the water’s edge he was finally able to sit down at the riverbank with his washboard and start on his task of washing the clothes.

George was about halfway through with the first basket of clothes when a glint in the bottom of the creek caught his eye. He looked at the sparkle in the water curiously, he’d heard talk of gold out in the west but there was no way, right? George tried to stamp out the childish glee that arose in his chest at the possibility of finding gold.

_Calm down, it’s probably just a shiny rock or a shard of glass._

George carefully set his washboard down on the riverbank, his curiosity winning out, as he waded into the refreshingly cold creek. He stopped just in front of the mysterious glimmer that lay in the depths and squinted down at the creek before pulling up his sleeves and plunging his arm into the water. He reached down to the rough bottom of the creek, fingers brushing along smooth stones and pebbles before reaching their destination.

George retracted his arm from the creek pulling up a strange looking, well, George wasn’t actually quite sure what it was, _pebble, trinket?_

George rolled the object over his fingers, staring at it in fascination. It sure as hell wasn’t like any pebble he’d seen before. The object was small. It fit comfortably in the middle of his open palm and had an opaque milky color with several dark colored markings on one side, two dots and a curved line.

George amusedly thought it looked a bit like a smile.

He giggled and pressed his mouth to the curved line of the object, giving it a small kiss. His lips quirked up into a grin as he held the object up to the light, watching the midday sun glint off of its smooth surface.

George vaguely wondered if he could sell the mysterious object before sliding it into his pocket.

With the mystery solved George went back to doing the day’s laundry. He hummed quietly to himself, letting his brain drift while he worked. He thought back to the towns he’d left behind, the town he was staying in now, and how they all seemed to blend together.

The towns held little attachment in his mind, and aside from the few friends he had made during his travels, George was primarily alone. He didn’t have much of a family, at least, not one that was nearby. George would never admit it, but he missed the long nights spent at the saloon with friends he’d spent such little time with but somehow they’d known each other so well. He could almost kick himself for not going along with them when they’d left the little town behind weeks ago, George promising to catch up when he had the funds.

George sighed, thinking about missed opportunities and adventures with friends riding atop the backs of horses, but was swiftly knocked out of his head when he felt a sharp heat in his pocket.

George yelped and quickly reached into the pocket fumbling with the object he had retrieved from the river. The object burned red and hot in his palm and he quickly flung it to the ground. George dunked his burnt hand into the river, sighing at the contact with the cool water as it soothed the burns. He hesitantly brought his hand out of the river and looked at his hand with wide eyes.

Branding the palm of his hands were three distinct marks, two dots and a curved line, _a smile._


	2. Bloody hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! You ever just write one chapter of a fic and then your entire life falls apart? Just me? Ahhh, well I hope anyone reading enjoys, I also hope to update this fic weekly from now on and I'm tentatively setting chapter release dates as Sunday for now.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy! :)

George’s head was stuffed full of cotton. He felt far away and fuzzy within his own mind, as if he was in a dream. He could vaguely hear muffled noises around him and his vision was hazy. Shapes blurred around him contorting and spinning, the edges of his vision were tinged in black. He tried desperately to identify something- anything, to help ground him back in reality.

All at once though, in a sea of disjointed thoughts and static-like noise a voice rung out, _‘Kill, kill, kill.'_

The voice chanted out the word in a twisted mantra, and George could feel the bloodlust in harsh waves. The thoughts in his head clearly not his own helped to shake him from the haze wrapped around his mind.

With a start, George realized that his body was in fact moving on its own, a foreign power thrumming through his veins as he watched with horror as his own hands ripped into the flesh of an unassuming sheep, his lips curling into a malicious smile. George stared down at his now gore covered hands, not in control of his own body as the mantra of death cried out with glee.

Within a moment George was once again in control of himself, looking around at the scattered remains of the livestock that had been brutally ripped apart by…

_by him?_

George couldn’t tear his eyes away from the brutal scene before him, body shaking as he felt the white hot power under his skin dissipate. As it left him, he fell to his knees, hunched over, weak, and confused. A sick part of his soul he identified as no one else but his own cried out in dismay at the loss of power, but he quickly shook it away, bile rising up in his throat. George couldn’t find the strength within himself to rise off his knees, and he remained in the grass, eyes unblinking.

A tap at George’s shoulder was hardly felt as he continued staring, eyes unseeing. A harsh grip on his chin forced his gaze to the side and snapped him out of his stupor. Unnaturally green eyes met his own, George was vaguely reminded of a snake. He was brought from his thoughts as he noticed the figure before him was speaking. A cheery voice rang out in the field,

“Hello! Nice to meet you.”

George was more than a little lost. He blinked owlishly, lips moving to speak but his mind had been left in the dust.

“Uhhh…” George stammered, “W-who are you?” was all he could think to ask.

The figure tapped his chin humming in thought before grinning. “I’m Dream, and you just set me free. Thanks by the way.”

“What.”

“Oh, do you not remember? Don’t want to give me another kiss?” Dream’s voice lowered and turned playful as he leaned in slightly. George flushed and scrambled back, falling down onto his backside, his mind supplying him with memories of the pebble he had picked up from the stream.

As George’s hand fell to the wet blood-stained grass behind him he was suddenly reminded of the harsh gruesome reality he was in. Sick realization dawned on George as he looked- really looked, at the being in front of him. Thin black horns sprouted from Dream’s skull, and as he looked beyond Dream’s face he saw the swish of a barbed tail behind him. Everything began to click with one word, _demon_.

“Get the fuck away from me demon” George hissed out, terrified out of his mind.

Dream cocked his head far too innocently and let out a laugh, flashing teeth much sharper than a normal human. “So I take it, that's a no on the kiss then?”

Fury coursed through George’s veins clashing with the fear he felt. This _creature_ had possessed him, controlled his body and made him do god knows what. Suddenly George’s blood turned to ice.

_What had the creature made him do?_

“You possessed me.” It wasn’t so much as a question as it was a statement.

Dream scratched his neck, looking almost sheepish, “Well, I didn’t mean to, per se, It’s-”

George cut him off, exploding, “What the fuck do you mean you didn’t mean to? You’re a sick fuck you know that? Making me slaughter all of these animals to get off, what else did you even make me do?”

Dream snarled, lips curling to reveal his sharp teeth as he stalked towards George, towering over him, “Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that?”

George gulped, terrified, as he was reminded that this was a demon he was speaking to, but his eyes remained defiant. “What the fuck did you make me do?”

Dream’s eyes narrowed, but he conceded. “It was just the animals, god’s word.” The demon smirked and put his hands up in a mock prayer towards the sky. “Look, it’s been fun talking with you cutie, but it looks like we’ve got a crowd.”

George’s eyes abruptly snapped from Dream and towards the farmhouse, where he was now aware of the several farmers and ranch hands watching with various expressions of disgust and rage.

_Oh shit._

They had watched _him_ slaughter the animals, not Dream, but himself. George was frozen. He heard cries of heresy and witchcraft come from the small crowd, voices begging for his head on a pike.

George felt like his lungs were filled with ice, he couldn’t move.

The crowd started descending down the hill, pitchforks and rope in hand, and George was terrified. He felt tears squeeze their way out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

“I can get you out of this,” He heard a soft voice in his ear, and he looked back at Dream who was holding out a hand. “Just tell me your name, and I’ll make sure everything will be okay.”

George’s eyes squeezed shut. He knew the one rule about demons was to never, _never,_ give them your name, because names were power, but George was running out of time. “On one condition, make sure no one gets hurt.” George’s voice was scarcely above a whisper.

Dream’s smile turned manic and his voice was full of honey, “Okay, shake my hand and we’ll call it a _deal_.”

George reached out to shake the demon’s hand, skin meeting skin with a spark. As soon as their hands fell back to their sides, George felt the familiar thrum of power crawling beneath his veins once more, and he hated himself for the way his chest started to pound with anticipation at the feeling.

George looked into Dream’s crazed eyes as his own vision started to swim, dizzy and black, and his thoughts turned to little more than a haze. George was unconscious yet again.

 _“There’s no getting away now George.”_

* * *

When George awoke for the third time that day the sun was no longer hung in the sky.

This time, there was no haze accompanying his return to consciousness. The strength was sapped from his limbs once more, but instead of falling to the ground, a pair of arms caught him.

George blinked away the exhaustion from his eyes, feeling as though he had been run over by a carriage, as the events of the day caught up with him. He wriggled out of the arms steadying him and looked around wildly, disoriented. He vaguely recognized his surroundings as the train station right on the edge of the dusty town.

He looked up at Dream, mind buzzing with questions.

 _What had Dream done while in control of his body,_ _How had they escaped?_

“How-” Dream cut him off,

“Later. We need to get as far away as possible before word starts to spread.”

George clenched his jaw. “We? There is no we. Go off and do whatever the fuck you want. Just leave me alone.”

Dream laughed, seemingly bitter. “It’s not that easy George.”

George tensed at the use of his name, “What are you talking about? Just leave.”

Dream shook his head and sighed, running a hand through his hair, decidedly lacking the horns that had been there before, “Look, It’s not that easy, you set me free so we’re stuck together for the time being whether you like it or not.”

“What do you mean, stuck?”

“We can talk about it later, but for now we need to get out the hell of here.” The demon growled, clearly not up for any more debate.

George wanted to know more, but he didn’t want to risk inciting any more anger in the demon so he kept his mouth shut. The pair walked up to the ticket booth and George purchased two tickets for the only place he could think of for salvation.

A place several towns west, a place whose name he had heard only once from the lips of friends who had long since left him behind. A place he had spent weeks desperately dreaming of, and he could only pray that his friends still called it their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any and all comments appreciated :0

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this far!!
> 
> Also... ahaha I made a spotify playlist which includes a lot of the songs that inspired this fic. Feel free to take a listen if you'd like! :)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0DQPVKdG1AQP3RwZOG5F8Z?si=cMHmmXXwRq22jdX9hbauIQ


End file.
